Get Out Alive Trilogy Part 2: My Time of Dying
by Nymphadora-CullenBAU
Summary: As a member of the team suffers at the hands of Ian Doyle, Emily helps the rest of the BAU plan the downfall of Ian Doyle. Part 2/3, Ch. 4/4
1. I Will Not Die, I Will Survive

**_Welcome to part 2 (I would highly suggest reading part 1 if you haven't already)_**

**_When we last left our heroes, there was much drama going on; Ian Doyle had returned, someone had been kidnapped, someone else had been killed... And someone else had come back! Now, we're here to see how the BAU reacts to all this!_**

**_No, I don't own Criminal Minds!_**

….

_Slowly, the hooded figure moved her hands to her hood, gently removing it from her head, twisting her head to release her long jet-black hair from the confines of the material._

_The formerly hooded woman looked up at the four members of her former team with a calm gaze._

_Clyde smiled gently at her. JJ and Hotch exchanged meaningful glances and slight smiles. Morgan, Garcia and Rossi looked stunned._

_"Emily?"_

It was a moment before anyone on the team actually could speak.

"Oh my _God!_" Garcia whispered; there were tears running down her face, smudging her mascara. "Oh my… I… You're here! You're alive! But we buried you! But you're alive! But JJ said," she turned to JJ, horrorstruck. "You told us she was dead!"

"It was to protect you," JJ revealed. "If Emily hadn't gone to him…. He would have gone after you."

"I didn't have a choice in the matter," Emily admitted. "He threatened you. He named each of you, and knew where you were and what you were doing, and where you were going. I was sitting out on a terrace in D.C, waiting for him, and when he came to me, he threatened to take you all down."

"What did he say?" Rossi asked.

Emily took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I still remember it like it was yesterday," she whispered, so softly that the occupants of the room had to strain to hear. "His exact words, the original words that he said, were: 'Does the lovely Penelope know you're here? I guess she's too busy watching movies with Derek to care? Here you are, all alone, while Aaron sits at home with his son. And why didn't Dave and Ashley invite you to their game night? I guess they thought you'd be on the Metro, with Dr. Reid. Now that one has some quirks.' He also told me that he was going to take my life from me. He also quoted a writer… I can't remember who."

"When?" Morgan growled.

"After the case in Louisiana, with Sammy Sparks," she replied. "That why I remembered it for so long, because Reid got so close to Sammy."

And then she looked around the room, at Clyde, who smiled gently at her, at JJ and Hotch, who were tightly gripping both her hands, at Garcia, who was still crying despite the small smile that was on her face, at Morgan, whose face was cloudy and clearly madder than she had ever seen it, and at Rossi, who stared impassively at her, clearly lost in thought.

But there was one other face….

She craned her neck, thinking that he was behind Morgan, but didn't see him; he gaze wandered to the Bullpen, but his desk was empty, as was the kitchen and the coffee maker that rested on the counter.

Where was he? She had always thought of him as a fixture; when Hotch had said that Seaver had left the team, she knew that they would never let him leave.

…_.I guess they thought you'd be on the Metro, with Dr. Reid…._

Oh, no….

"Where is he?" Emily whispered suddenly. "Where's Reid? Reid!"

She expected to see him suddenly walk into the Bullpen, coffee cup in hand, perhaps wearing that famed purple scarf that he always loved. Maybe some odd-colored sweater vest with a pattern or style that screamed "I'm from Goodwill!" She waited, second after second.

But the seconds turned to minutes, and no Spencer Reid wandered in.

JJ took her hand, and she saw as Hotch, Rossi and Morgan exchanged glances.

"With what Emily said," Rossi supplied. "It looks like Doyle already had his target before he even began this whole operation."

"Because his target here was the first leverage he would have used if Emily didn't stop him," Hotch concluded.

"What do you mean?" Clyde Easter was confused; clearly, he hadn't caught on yet.

"He called all of us by name," Morgan calmly ground out. "He clearly knew our full titles, but only called us by our first names, like Penelope instead of Garcia, Derek instead of Morgan, Aaron instead of Hotchner, Ashley instead of Seaver, David instead of Rossi."

"Except for Reid," Rossi growled. "He said 'Doctor Reid.' Not 'Spencer.' He used Reid's title and not his first name. But why?"

"Because your young doctor was his next target," Clyde concluded, and Emily's stomach dropped, like it had that night. "If Emily didn't go to him, Ian Doyle was going to target Doctor Spencer Reid. It would have forced her to go to him."

"Because I would have wanted revenge," Emily whispered, clutching at her chest where the clover scar seemed to burn and throb. "Revenge for his death."

….

_A/N: I would love to see some reviews tomorrow morning... :D_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	2. I Feel Alive, When You're Beside Me

**_I know that it's probably redundant to say "I'm sorry" when it comes to waiting so long to post an update, but I really, really am sorry; I've been so busy with classes, and the newspaper, and I had writer's block, and I'm having roommate issues, slight headaches, I lost my iPod and my brother gave me his old one (I thought it was the iTouch he had with a huge crack in the screen, but he says that it's officially dead). _**

**_Also, my writing classes are eating all my muses, Brit Lit is harder than I thought, my Creative Writing professor knows I've been working on a novel and wants me (Along with several of my classmates who have also written novels) to share them all in class. I only have half a typed page of one novel, and the rest are scattered in notebooks at home somewhere. Plus, I need to find time to practice my voice and violin lessons, and exercise, my mom's getting on my butt for all sorts of crap (hygiene, friends, lunch etc)._**

**_ That's my life! But you're not here for that; you're here for my story!_**

**_So let me say it; I don't own Criminal Minds! If I did, the Reid/Morgan Prank War would have a month-long story arc! :D_**

...

Emily and Rossi were still in the conference room, looking through the old files from the last time Doyle had been in America. It was then that Rossi started talking.

"Everyone has secrets, but this is ridiculous!" Rossi bemoaned. "It's like we're a—a herd is it?"

"Of what?" She was confused.

"Teenage girls."

"Actually, Rossi, it's called a clique."

"…I like herd of teenage girls better."

Emily found herself chuckling for a moment before turning back to the files before her

Rossi turned to her. "I didn't completely think you were dead," he said suddenly.

Prentiss looked at him, surprised. "What makes you say that?" she asked.

"It was that case," Rossi began, clearly choosing his words carefully. "The first one we had after JJ came back from maternity leave."

"The one in Washington with Brooke Lombardini, I remember," she replied. "But what made you realize I wasn't actually dead?"

"What you said on the plane," he stated.

"I don't have perfect recall when it comes to those things," she said. "I'm not…" she trailed off, realizing what she was about to say and blushed; she knew Rossi had caught that.

"I know you aren't," he gently reminded her. "But back to that case. You said that you didn't want to be embalmed, that it was too creepy. You told us that you wanted to be cremated. That was when I realized that the funeral we had had for you was a trick, a way for Ian Doyle to back away and believe you were gone."

"If I could go back, I would change it," she said. "I would. I—"

Rossi shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It was in your best interest, as well as for ours."

"But he still found out," Emily whispered, her voice breaking. "He still connected the dots and figured out the clues and still found out that I was alive. And because of that he came back here, killed Ashley and dragged Spencer off to some remote location, and is doing God knows what to him! And it's all my fault!"

"I once told Hotch the same thing I'm about to tell you," Rossi sharply, but calmly replied as he grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "He was blaming himself for the people who died on the bus that night when Foyet had attacked the bus. I told him that if he wanted to blame himself, I'd give him the gun right there, that I'd put it in his hands. I told him that it wasn't his conscious that was hurting because of that event, but his ego. I told him that it was this guilt that had sent Gideon running. And then I told him that we were going to find Foyet and bring him in."

Emily nodded, gulping in deep breaths as Rossi released her.

"And I apologize for grabbing you," he added. "You're clearly suffering from PTSD, and it might be best for you to see someone when this is over. Maybe Reid will want you to go with him. We'll bring him home and we'll ask him when he wakes up in the hospital."

Emily smiled slightly, glancing down at the pile of files before her. "I hope you're right," she whispered.

He rubbed her shoulder gently, and whispered, "If you want to, you can get us a few more files; we need to pinpoint where he's been these last six months."

She nodded and made her way out into the bullpen, ignoring the stare she knew were glancing off her, blocking the whispers that followed her.

But she couldn't keep them from walking up to her, staring at her; however, she should have known that Morgan would confront her first.

"You were alive this whole time?" he asked.

"Nice to see you again, too," Prentiss replied, grabbing a stack of case files that sat nearby.

"I'm not angry," he amended, reaching out to grab the folders in her hand. "I just want to know why you didn't tell us."

"Hotch, JJ and I already told you; it was for your own protection," Emily replied.

And then Morgan exploded.

"And a fat lot of good it did us!" he yelled. "You leave for six months, make us all assume you're dead, and then when you come back, all Hell breaks loose!"

"Derek—" She began.

"He's been taken again, Emily!" Morgan spat. "Do you remember the last time he was taken by an UnSub we were chasing? Do you remember those two days in that dirty farmhouse, where we watched Tobias beat him? Torture him? Almost kill him?"

"I went through the exact same thing he did!" She cried. "I was tied to a chair, same as he was! I had a gun pointed at my face, I was brutally tortured by my captor." She snatched the files from Morgan's hands. "I watched people die, Morgan! Right in front of me, live on a computer screen! The same thing that happened to Reid; he was tied, he was threatened and he watched two people die in front of him, unable to stop it from happening or warn the couple that was about to be slaughtered. You should remember, Morgan; he's supposed to be your friend!"

And with that, she stormed off. Morgan stared after her surprised. But then she stopped a few feet in front of him.

"The headaches," she said suddenly, turning around. "Reid told you about the headaches, right?"

Morgan continued to glare at her; her comments still stung. "Yeah, so?" he growled. "And what gives you the right to know about them? You left him. You left him, and us, and went after Doyle. We all believed that you were dead because Hotch and JJ said so."

Emily walked past him. "I just wanted to say one thing about them," she replied. "He told me about them first."

"I know that!" Morgan shot back. "He told me so during the very first case we worked after you funeral!"

"He told me first because he thought that if he told you, everyone else would treat him like a baby," Emily coolly responded before wheeling around and walking out the door toward the conference room.

Morgan's jaw dropped, and he furiously attempted to shut it. "That's not the point!" he shouted, running after her; local cops paused to watch him as he made his way toward her.

But when he reached her and made to lay a hand on her shoulder, she whirled around and grabbed his hand. "My point, Derek Morgan," she snarled. "Is that Spencer Reid isn't a child. I've watched you all for five years. I watched you all treat him like a little boy. After Georgia, you all treaded around him carefully, hoping that he would speak to you, or someone else, about the events that transpired when the camera wasn't on. When Gideon left, you all watched him again, worrying that he was going to snap and follow his footsteps. The Owen Savage case was the one that frightened you the most, am I right? You saw how he related to the UnSub, to Owen, and as a result you all tried to relate. And when that didn't work, you chewed him out! It seems that sometimes Rossi and I are the only ones that have any sense to treat him like the man he is!"

"I get it; he wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't baby him, but…"

"You don't get it!" She cried. "He wants to be an adult, and instead you hand him kiddie gloves and point him in the direction of the sandbox! You try to hold his hand at every crime scene when he wants to cross the street himself! Someday you're going to wake up and realize what, or rather who, you're turning into."

"But…"

"Damn it, Morgan, you're turning into Gideon!" Emily cried. "Gideon was the one who babied him, who set the example for the rest of you! Gideon was the one who built him up, and then tore him down when he ran away! If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be having this conversation! I'm just thankful Reid's made it as far as he has without Gideon!"

And with that, she stormed away again, leaving Morgan flabbergasted in her wake.

...

_A/N: First off, I just want to say that this story is written out completely, so updates should be quick to come; I'll probably post when I have a free day, so most likely on Friday this week. If not then, then for sure on Saturday or , the third part is well underway!  
><em>

_And how about tonight's episode? I totally called the Poe poem... And the UnSub's mom's fate!_

_Anyway, a great big THANKS are in order to my VERY patient reviewers greengirl82, lpearson Emmy73CriminalMinds, Alison Burns, Peaches322, lolyncut, and Laurella! Thanks very much! **hugs**_

_Peaches322: Thank you! And there is a lot more coming, trust me; I wanted to give everyone a nice long chapter this time to make up for my lack thereof! ;)_  
><em>Laurella: I'm glad to see that; I think that you won't be disappointed in this story... At least I hope so! :D<em>

_Also, please review! The box is down there! Go forward, my readers! Allons-y!_

_Love,_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	3. I Will Not Die, I'll Wait Here For You

**_I was kinda surprised by how few reviews I got for the last chapter; I put off updating until now to see if anyone else would review, but I would love to see a bunch for this chapter, especially since there's lots of Reid in it._**

**_Also, there's a warning this chapter for... Well, I don't know how to describe it; I've never written anything like it. Basically, one of Doyle's minions takes a... special interest in our genius._**

**_And not every girl has 100 pairs of shoes in her closet; I am perfectly at ease with my two Converse, tennis shoes, dress shoes and bathroom flip-flops. _**

**_Also, Matthew making boxing stances... Tres cool!_**

**_Anyway, off to decorate my door for Halloween! **hums "What Are You Going To Be For Halloween?" as she walks away**  
><em>**

**_Once again, Criminal Minds is not mine._**

...

Garcia was with Rossi when she came back; he quickly excused himself, muttering something about wanting to talk to Hotch before darting from the room.

Neither of them spoke; Garcia finally took a breath and began.

"This is... awkward."

Emily laughed slightly; the sound felt weird coming from her mouth "I've supposedly been dead for six months," she said. "It's a whole new adventure right here and now."

They paused, slight grins on their faces.

"Why are we keeping all these secrets?" Garcia asked softly. "It's so… unlike us!"

Emily shrugged. "You'd think we were all entitled to our secrets," she admitted.

There was another pause.

"We'll find him, Em," Garcia abruptly voiced.

"I know," she replied. "He's... He's strong. Stronger than a lot of people I know. I mean, look at Georgia, Colorado, Texas, and I'm sure the list goes on. He's brilliant; he''ll be home before you know it. But... I don't want to lose him. Not again. Not for real. We almost lost him before; what if this time; it's permanent?"

"We'll find him," Garcia assured, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "We found you. And we got you back, in the end."

Emily grabbed her hand, the one resting on her shoulder, and squeezed back. "I know."

Garcia nodded.

Emily looked out into the bullpen to see Hotch and Rossi talking with Morgan.

"Thanks for setting him straight," Garcia said suddenly. "I think that sometimes he forgets that what you and Reid experienced are similar horror stories."

"You're welcome," Prentiss nodded.

Garcia smiled; Prentiss could see the tears sparkling in her eyes for a second before the brightly-colored woman flung herself at her missing friend, sobbing.

"I m-missed-d y-you," Garcia wailed. "So m-mu-much! Please d-don't ever g-go aw-way again!"

Emily didn't answer; her comforting embrace was all the crying Tech Goddess needed.

….

Reid stirred slightly, wincing as he shifted to release the strain in his neck; he moaned softly at the pain coming from his torso and face. He realized with a jolt that he had been moved; he was no longer in the abandoned house that he'd woken up in after he'd first been taken. Instead of an old mattress, he was now tied to a wooden chair. His hands were handcuffed behind his back and his legs were bound to the front legs of the chair. Reid pulled at the cuffs, but they wouldn't budge; the chain seemed to have been threaded between the slats, and he clearly wouldn't be getting out anytime soon.

And then, he remembered:

_Ian Doyle stroked Reid's pale cheek tenderly, a disgusting smirk on his face. "Your mind will be of great use to me if she doesn't come for you."_

_Reid's insides had frozen at Doyle's words, but his blood was boiling over what the Irishman had done; the touch to Reid's face had been a sickening imitation of when his mother used to read to him; whenever he fell asleep in her bed, if she wasn't having an episode that day, she'd wake him gently with a touch to the side of his face, and a soft 'Spencer, you fell asleep in my bed again. It's time for you to get ready for school, Baby.' _

_That was what made him snap. _

_He smiled at his captor, the act a simple mockery of the sweet smile he always had for her and his friends. "Oh, they will find me, Emily or no Emily," he whispered. "And I swear to God, that when they do, they will destroy you."_

_It was these words that made Ian Doyle snap, for moments later, Reid had been shoved backwards onto the bed and Doyle had straddled him before he began pounding him. His face, chest and arms all received abuse from Doyle's fists as well as continuous pistol smacks to his face. This seemed to go on for hours, until with one final vicious smack! Doyle sat back and moved from the bed._

_The last thing Reid saw and heard was the elder man opening the door of his prison and calling down the hall, "O' Riley! Sheppard! Moran! Cullen! You're with me; we're moving the Fed to Location Two. He rides with me."_

Reid winced again; no wonder he hurt so badly.

'_Can it get any worse?' _he mused.

No sooner had he thought it than the sound of a door opening behind him was heard, and a set of footsteps made their way around the chair; Reid looked up to see a young, thin sandy-haired man in a fleece jacket calmly grab a chair that sat nearby, spin it to face Reid and then sit down in it, rubbing his hands down the legs of his denim-clad lags.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

Then, the other man grinned in a way that sent shivers down Reid's spine before reaching out his hand and resting it on Reid's knee. Instinct kicked in and Reid began pulling at the cuffs that were linked to the chair again; he had never liked being touched, especially not by strangers.

Especially not by strangers who had hungry looks in their eyes when they appraised Reid's body.

"Hello, Beautiful," the man whispered; despite the warm Irish brogue, there was a dark, cold edge to it. "I'm O' Riley. Connor O' Riley."

"Don't touch me," Spencer hissed.

The other man laughed. "You're a fighter," he said, standing up to move closer; Reid flinched as the other man's hand stroked the side of his face. "I like that."

"Assaulting a Federal officer is a Federal Crime," Reid whispered hurriedly. "You don't have to do this."

Before Connor could speak, the door burst open to reveal Ian Doyle, who calmly moved forward to grasp Spencer's shoulders in an ironclad grip. "That's enough, Connor," he spat. "Go back to the house."

O' Riley left without another word, his eyes still locked on Reid's face; as soon as the door closed behind him, Doyle took the chair the other man had vacated and sat across from his hostage, watching him. Reid stared calmly back, despite the scare he'd just had.

"Doctor," Doyle began in a friendly tone. "I'm in a bit of a dilemma, you see. A few months ago, I… came across an old friend. I thought she had died about… five, six years ago now, and was surprised to learn that she was in fact, alive. I went to confront her, ask her why she hadn't tried to correct that information, and why," now his voice changed; it was harsh now, filled with anger. "Why she took the most important thing in my life from me?"

"You mean Declan?" Reid asked. "Your son, Declan Jones?"

"My son, yes," Doyle growled; now he seemed calmer, but not conversational like he had been before. "She wouldn't tell me."

"So you killed her," Reid spat. "You killed Emily Prentiss."

At this, Doyle suddenly smiled. "I didn't kill her, Doctor Reid," he whispered; his voice almost seemed… Dangerous. "She's alive, and you are going to tell me where she is."

"She's dead," Reid argued. "You killed her yourself; I read the autopsy report. The C.O.D was impalement through her diaphragm. You took the leg of a table from the room you kept her in, this very room, if memory serves me, and thrust it into her diaphragm, impaling her small intestine and then pushing it upward into her chest, toward her heart; she would have bled out within an hour. But she also had numerous bruises and cuts, as well as bruised ribs and… And a four leaf clover branded into the skin of her left breast."

Doyle snorted and moved away from Reid. "Charming, Doctor," he growled. "You memorized her autopsy reports. Good for you."

"Only the better to hunt you with," Reid muttered. A second after the words left his mouth, Doyle grabbed Spencer's hair and pulled his head back over the edge of the chair to look the killer in the eyes.

"Don't trifle with me, Spencer," he hissed before turning his head and yelling down the hall. Then he turned back and shoved Reid's head forward, forcing the young man to yelp in surprise; as he looked up, Reid saw Doyle move to the right hand corner.

Reid's eyes wandered to the large machine sitting in that very corner of the room, the machine that Doyle was now dragging toward him. He noticed that Connor O' Riley had returned and was holding a video-camera in one hand and a keen white knife in his other; Reid's stomach churned with a familiar sense of fear and dread.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the machine while trying to block memories of Georgia and Tobias from his memory.

Doyle chuckled. "I'm sending a message to Emily and your team," he stated as though he was merely telling Reid about the weather. Reid noticed Doyle's hand turn a dial, and an orange light flickered on, an indication that the machine was functioning. He then turned to Connor, gesturing toward Reid; the man's face turned into an evil sneer as he reached for Reid's shirt and began slitting the middle of it with his knife. Reid closed his eyes as the sharp metal made its way up his torso, biting his lip to keep from whimpering; it didn't stop the gasp that left the profiler's mouth when Connor slid his hand back down Reid's torso, his eyes closed in what could only be described as ecstasy.

It was only when Reid saw Doyle leaning toward him that he realized what was going to happen and he tried to squirm away, to tip the chair over, but the elder man's rough hand grasped Reid's hair and pulled it sharply. Reid hissed; it felt like the Irishman was going to rip his scalp off.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your friend Emily," Doyle whispered; the stubble on the man's chin tickled Reid's cheek and he flinched at the coarse texture. "I told her, 'the more you fight, the more it will hurt.' But this time, they're going to see the whole thing." As he spoke, Doyle's hand moved from Reid's hair to his shoulder, which was tightly grasped in a bruising hold. "So be sure to scream really loud."

And a second later, Reid did scream as Ian Doyle began branding his 'message' into the young man's chest.

"No! Stop it! Please!" he screamed.

The pain caused Reid to struggle against the cuffs binding him to the chair, and Doyle grabbed his shoulder to hold him steady when he worked.

"NYAAAAA!" Reid bellowed as the branding continued; his head moved from side to side, tears fell from his eyes, and the pain became worse and worse until Reid's voice gave out from screaming so much.

"No more, please! Just stop, please," he croaked, but his voice was unheard.

Even as Doyle continued to work on his message, Spencer's vision began to darken; the last thing he saw was O' Riley, a permanent smirk on his face, and his hungry eyes visually…. There was no other word for it, assaulting him, undressing him as Doyle worked.

...

_A/N: ...I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda wondering where the second part of this chapter came from myself; until I figure it out, I'm blaming Steven Moffat, the head writer of_ Doctor Who. _He may have possessed my mind and body while I was writing this. Well, him, and my continued addiction to the M-rated fanfic on this site._

_Thanks to my excellent reviewers lolyncut, greengirl82, and Alison Burns! You guys are AMAZING! :D_

_The rest of you... Please review! I look forward to your thoughts on this development. Allons-y!  
><em>

_Love,_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


	4. Epilogue: In My Time of Dying

**_That was a great episode last night! The whole storyline with the UnSub drowning people and reviving them, Reid and Prentiss' revelations about their own experiences, Rossi and his wife... And their son! Infinite tears! :'( _**

**_I hope you enjoy this final chapter in Part 2; Part 3 should be out within a week or so, depending on when i have free time. My life is about to be swamped_**

**_I don't own Criminal Minds! Really, I don't! Wish I did, though..._**

….

The team and Clyde were gathered in the conference room when Garcia and Kevin ran into the room; Kevin wasted no time in setting up Garcia's laptop at the projector while Garcia tried to turn on the screen, tears running down her cheeks.

Rossi swooped in to take it from her and pass it to JJ. "What is it, Kitten?" he asked.

Penelope shook her head, tears still spilling from her eyes. "It's—I—Oh my God!"

As soon as she spoke, JJ had found a signal from the projector, and the screen came to life with an image from a video sent via email.

"Play it," Hotch whispered; he knew that they already knew what it was.

JJ hit the "Play" button...

"...So be sure to scream really loud," whispered the taunting voice of Ian Doyle.

And a second later, there was a loud howl from the screen; at the same time, the camera focused on a figure sitting in the dark, his hands bound to the chair he sat in.

Reid's head was thrown back in agony, and he was jerking against his restraints; it took everything the team had to not want to drop the profile they were creating and dash to their friend's aid.

"No! Stop it! Please!" Reid screamed as he struggled in the chair. Doyle grabbed his shoulder to hold him steady as he continued his work, before forcing Reid's head back against the wooden back of the chair with his free hand when the younger man's head moved forward.

"NYAAAAA!" Reid bellowed as the branding continued; his head moved from side to side, tears falling from his eyes, and the camera caught every second. The violent video of their friend continued in this vein for a few minutes before Reid's voice gave out.

"No more, please! Just stop, please," he croaked breathlessly, struggling weakly and begging for the torment to end; they could barely hear him, he voice was so raspy and worn.

It was the last thing he said, for a second later, his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell unconscious, his body falling limply into the chair.

JJ and Garcia had left the room before the video was even a minute in. Rossi, Hotch and Morgan watched without a single emotion on their faces, but their eyes told the real story; while Hotch's were filled with grief and pain for his subordinate, Morgan's were filled with anger and guilt. Rossi's however, were surprisingly filled with unshed tears. Meanwhile, Prentiss was standing before the computer screen, her hand gripping the chair before her in a white knuckled iron grip; it shook the way each breath she took shook, and silent tears fell down her face, her compartmentalization skills abandoned. Clyde Easter laid a hand on her shoulder, but he knew that he couldn't comfort her in this moment. Kevin still stood by Garcia's laptop, his eyes never leaving the screen; there was a look of horror on his rounded face.

By now, Doyle was finishing his message, putting a final touch on whatever it was he was creating in his captive's skin; Reid had already stopped screaming a while ago, his voice giving out shortly before he fell unconscious from the pain. His head now hung limply to the side, his hair falling into his face to obscure his closed eyes and partially opened mouth. Suddenly, Doyle stood up, his work done. He ruffled the unconscious man's hair before beckoning the camera closer. It obeyed, wavering slightly as it did so. She also noticed that as it came closer, the lens of the camera panned up and down Reid's unconscious form in a sick mockery of appreciation; it reminded Prentiss of the Frost/Gohering case a few years ago.

'Someone is holding it,' Prentiss realized, but didn't dwell on the thought, as Doyle's message was now fully displayed on the screen; the image made the usually composed Emily Prentiss shudder.

It was the imprint of a shamrock; except for the fact that it was shaded in, and looked just a bit bigger, it was an exact copy of the one on Emily's chest.

It was only when the screen went dark that she turned to the rest of the room. "I know where they are," she said.

…..

_A/N: End part 2. Sorry it's so short..._

_I'm still writing Part 3. Right now, it's a whole jumble of wibbley-wobbley timey-wimey stuff, but I have an idea as to where it will go._

_Thanks to my reviewers lolyncut, Ella, greengirl82, pottyandweezlbe89, CMSP, Kiraclara, Reidemption, Emmy73CriminalMinds, Jen, and RiverSong11! You guys rock! :D_

_And a special hug to RiverSong11 for knowing what I'm talking about with Mister Steven Moffat!_

_Ella: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :D_  
><em>pottyandweezlby89: I agree; it's getting darker. I really hope you stick around for the rest! ;)<em>  
><em>Jen: Thank you! Hope you enjoy the rest of it! :D<em>

_Thanks again; hope to see you for the conclusion!_

_Please review! Allons-y!_

_*~N_CBAU~*_


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